


Routine Change

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, although the fact that they're in college is rarely spoken of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 17:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3538817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If there was one thing that everyone he had ever met could agree upon it was that Arthur Kirkland liked routines.  A change or two wasn't uncalled for, and if the change itself happened so often that it became part of an already existing routine, then it was all the better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Routine Change

**Author's Note:**

> one thing i couldn't fit in smoothly is that arthur was hired to work at this bakery/cafe thing after it was decided that employees shouldn't double up on cashier and baker duty.

If there was one thing that everyone he had ever met could agree on it was that Arthur Kirkland liked routines. Daily routines, weekly routines, monthly routines, yearly routines, and every possible routine in between were what woke Arthur up in the morning and what put him to bed at night. A change or two wasn’t uncalled for, and if the change itself happened so often that it became a new part of an already existing routine, then it was all the better.

So when the clock struck ten on a Thursday night and Alfred still hadn’t come sprinting through the front door, Arthur was both annoyed and worried. But mostly the latter.

There weren’t many routines revolving around customers at The Cookie Centre. There were multiple routines concerning shifts, how the food was baked, and how the food was sold, but there weren’t many customers who came to the store at precise times. The only customer of that nature that every employee knew of was Ms. Sylvia, a lady well into her seventies who came into the shop every day at two in the afternoon - three on Sundays - and would stay there until half past four. She ordered a different sweet each day, but her tea order was always the same. She would occasionally fawn over the young entrepreneurs who’d opened the shop, and wish every employee luck with their studies. The table in front of the third window from the left was practically reserved for her from 1:30 pm onward.  


Arthur had been in the midst of one of his many conversations with her the first time Alfred F. Jones nearly fell through the front door.

Arthur remembered vividly that Alfred had been a complete mess that day. His shirt was half tucked into his jeans, which were bunched up around his ankles. One of his shoes was untied, and he seemed to have managed to somehow get his arm tangled up in the strap of his bag. His glasses were lopsided, and he pushed one side up before pointing at Arthur.

“Please have, like, twenty cookies for me at nine?”

Before Arthur could respond, the door slammed, Alfred dashed by the window, and Ms. Sylvia was giggling behind her hand.

Alfred came back at nine, looking just as haggard as he had earlier in the afternoon. Arthur had a variety pack set aside that he brought out the minute he heard the bell over the door ring.

“Oh my God, dude, you’re such a lifesaver.”

“Your welcome?” Arthur swiftly pressed various buttons on the cash register. “Your total is $15.30.”

Alfred shoved his hand in his pants’ pocket and drew out a twenty dollar bill. “I completely forgot that I was in charge of dessert for Matt’s birthday.”

Arthur took the proffered money with only a fraction of his confusion laced in features. “It happens to the best of us.”

“I sure hope so.” Alfred dropped the change into the same pocket, and picked up the box of cookies. “Thanks again,” he called on his way out.

Arthur nodded in return, entirely unsure of how to respond.

The next time Alfred came into The Cookie Centre was the following Monday, also at 9 pm. He looked much more put together than he had four days before, although he was still panting from running.

“Hey, can I get five of those really chocolatey cookies?” 

Arthur gestured to the few that were on display behind the glass. “Those ones?”

Alfred nodded enthusiastically. “They were so good, dude, I nearly cried.” Alfred’s expression turned to one of inquisitiveness. “What?”

Arthur blinked away the perplexed look that he realized must have been on his face. “I’ve never heard of that sort of reaction.” He crouched and pulled the tray with the requested cookies out of the display case. “Are you sure that isn’t an allergic reaction of some sort?”

Once the words were out of his mouth he realized that they could be taken in a flirtatious way, or make him seem completely oblivious. He wasn’t sure which way he would rather Alfred take it.

“If I was allergic to anything in those cookies, then I’d probably be long dead by now.” Alfred began to dig through his jacket pocket. “How much do I owe this time?”

Arthur placed the small box of cookies on the counter, and absentmindedly pressed buttons, already knowing the total.

“$3.82.”

Alfred tossed a collection of coins on the counter, and effortlessly scooped up the box. “Keep whatever change is there.”

Arthur nodded, and began to sort through the coins for the needed amount.

“See ya, Art!” The door closed.

Arthur looked up from the pile of change, losing count in the process, and only returned to his previous task once he remembered that he was wearing a name tag.

When Alfred came barreling through the door again at nine the next Thursday, Arthur braced himself for the rambunctious man to become a new routine in his life.

Alfred only properly introduced himself on the third Thursday after Arthur mentioned that it was frightfully unfair that Alfred knew his name, but he didn’t know Alfred’s. Alfred had been entirely unaware of this, but most of his confusion had stemmed from the sass that had managed to leak into Arthur’s voice; something that Alfred had soon grown used to.

“You got some of those chocolatey things?”

“They have a name.”

“Yeah, but if I called them that then would you even know which ones I’m talking about?”

“Some of us can remember correct terminology.”

For the next seven months, Alfred would rush through the front door of The Cookie Centre at 9 pm on both Monday and Thursday, bringing a request of five chocolatey cookies with him every time. Arthur had soon warmed up to the new routine; so much so that he didn’t mind Ms. Sylvia’s questions about the rambunctious young man who came in that one day.

But it was now 10:05 pm on Thursday and Alfred hadn’t shown up.

Arthur supposed that he could be sick, but the last time that had happened Alfred had sent Matthew in his stead to retrieve ten cookies instead of the usual five. Matthew had only been ten minutes off from his brother’s usual timing on that occasion, and had been nice enough to introduce himself before Arthur could mistake him for his brother aloud.

There’d been one or two other occasions where Alfred had somewhere else he needed to be, but he’d let Arthur know in some way each time - either by coming into The Cookie Centre earlier than he usually would or, later on, through a call or text. Arthur had already sent him two messages with no reply.

Arthur waited impatiently for the final minutes of his shift, and sighed in disappointment when Alfred still hadn’t shown up by the time the clock hands landed on a time that Arthur used to look forward to. He took off his apron and hung it on his designated hook in the back room. He called out his departure to the remaining staff, and stepped out into the cool night air, arms only halfway through his coat sleeves.

He turned right, and began the far too long for this weather journey back to his dorm. He fished his cell phone out of his coat pocket, fruitlessly checking to see if Alfred had managed to get back to him. He hadn’t, of course, and Arthur kept his hand in his pocket once he’d placed the phone back in it.

“Arthur!”

Arthur halted his steps, and spun around to see Alfred running down the street as he often did. He was holding something, but Arthur couldn’t make out what it was exactly, as far away as it was. Whatever it was disappeared behind his back once he got passed The Cookie Centre. He skidded to a stop in front of Arthur, and his heavy breaths came out as grey puffs.

“Okay, so I left my phone in my room. And then the line took ages to get through, and by the time I actually managed to get to the front it was practically nine already. Then actually putting the thing together took fucking ages, so-”

“Alfred, slow down.” Arthur crossed his arms, and tried not to focus on their tinted breath mingling between them. “What were you in line for to begin with?”

Alfred’s face lit up. “Glad you asked!” He whipped his arm out from behind his back and presented Arthur with a somewhat rumpled bouquet.

Arthur hesitantly took them, gaze flicking back and forth between the flowers themselves and Alfred’s ecstatic expression. “They’re lovely. But what are they for, exactly?”

“Do you wanna go on a date sometime?”

Arthur laughed. “I didn’t think you were actually serious about your love of cliches.”

All of the imperceptible tension drained from Alfred. “Excuse you, I was completely serious. Cliches are to me what routines are to you.”

“I suppose I have no choice but to work your cheesiness into my routine, then?”

“Nope.” Alfred’s smile grew. “Not at all.”


End file.
